


You Who Held Me Under

by AnnaofAza



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Kingsman 2 Spoilers (sort of), M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6904900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Eggsy's wedding day, and he's never been happier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Who Held Me Under

“Eggsy. Eggsy, wake up.” 

“What?” Eggsy groans, scrubbing a hand across his face. “What’s going on?”

His mum beams at him, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. When she turns to tug Daisy closer, he notices a braid strung with flowers on the side of her head.

She’s wearing a dark blue dress and heels, something Eggsy hasn’t seen before, and Daisy, oddly enough, has a new white dress and is clutching a basket of flowers. Her hair is in straggly curls, flowers like his mum’s woven into them. They’re bright orange with delicate petals and a dark purple center. 

He’s seen those flowers before; he knows it. 

“You’re going to be late, babe,” his mum scolds, interrupting his thoughts. “You don’t want to leave them at the altar, do you?”

“Altar?” 

His mum laughs. “Yes, the altar! The one I’m going to walk you down in a bit!” She shakes her head, reaching for him, and looking down, Eggsy notices he’s wearing a uniform strung with medals. “You got it wrinkled, Eggsy! Goodness, come here, love.” 

His mum begins adjusting it, face full of tenderness. “Your father would have been so proud of you today. Look at my baby boy, about to get married into royalty.” She looks at him, beaming. “You look so much like Lee. I remember when we got married, and he was wearing this, too.” Her fingers pluck at one of the medals, and her voice becomes softer. “Both of you are my heroes.” 

Eggsy smiles, trying not to let his chin quiver. “Thanks, Mum,” he practically whispers, mind racing with the clues just given to him. He’s marrying royalty? But the only person who he knows is royalty is…

Princess Tilde. 

He can hardly believe it. The last time he saw her was during his last mission to Sweden, where she’d been making a speech about repairing the country after V-Day, and he’d stopped an assassination attempt. How could things have changed? And how…

“Oh, JB is with Roxy, dear,” his mum adds, scooping up Daisy with one arm. “He looks so sweet in that little bow-tie, yeah? I can’t believe he’s the ring-bearer.” 

Eggsy stares. “I don’t remember…training him.” 

“Well, he must be a smart dog, then,” she replies easily, then turns away. “You have to go run over a few things with Merlin, okay? He’s in the courtyard.” 

“Wait, Mum,” Eggsy begins to say, but she’s already gone. 

He sighs, deciding to get up and find Merlin, and he’s surprisingly easy to spot, as he’s the only one wearing a kilt. He’s also shouting at Jack, who’s rolling his eyes and gesturing towards the—is that a _choir_?

“Merlin!” Eggsy shouts, rushing past guards that look like they’re wearing a similar uniform to him. One shouts at him in Swedish, a wide grin on his face, and Eggsy thinks, _So I_ am _marrying Tilde._

He’s still not sure how he feels about that. 

“Eggsy!” Merlin turns to him, shooing Jack away. “Where have you been?”

“Uh…with my mum. Listen, guv, I—”

“No time!” Merlin interrupts, looking flustered. “Everyone’s getting into position, and you’re the one who wanted to practice your vows before the ceremony. So, quickly, come on.” 

“What? I…” Eggsy frantically pats at his uniform, and to his relief, hears a soft crackle from his trouser’s pocket. “Oh, here it is.” Merlin looks exasperated, so Eggsy quickly unfolds it and begins, “Harry Fitzwilliam Hart, you’re—”

He pauses, his heartbeat halting with a sharp start. “What?” 

Harry? He’s marrying _Harry_?

When—how—

“Come on, lad, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet already.”

Eggsy lowers the paper, voice stammering, “Merlin. Merlin, I’m marrying Harry? He’s…he’s royalty?” 

Merlin sighs, shaking his head. “Oh, not this again. Yes, Eggsy, he’s very, very distinctly related to royalty. Remember? You were calling him _my lord_ for nearly a month? Saying that you were, what, in some sort of Disney movie? I think you compared yourself to C—” He then stops, looking hard at Eggsy’s face. “Please tell me you’re not actually going to leave him at the altar.” 

“What? No!” Eggsy protests, even though this revelation of marrying Harry Hart had been dropped on his head just _now_. “I’m not…but listen, where is he? Can I see him?” 

Merlin sighs again. “You two can’t be apart for more than a few hours. Honestly, what happens when one of you has to go on an undercover mission for a few weeks?” Obligingly, he points in the direction of one of the pillars in the high-rising, fancy building. “He’s over there, and I believe your mother is threatening him. Now, if you excuse me…” 

Eggsy begins jogging his way there, muttering apologies to those he’s knocking out of the way and keeping his eyes on the man wearing what looks like the standard Kingsman uniform, save for the bright pink waistcoat and flower on his lapel. He’s leaning against one of the large, carved, wooden doors, just behind a white pillar, and his eyes widen behind his glasses when he catches sight of Eggsy. 

“Eggsy! What are you—”

“Can we talk? Please?” Eggsy hurriedly asks, then glances at his mum, who’s smiling a little when she walks away, towing Daisy by the arm. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no, thank you. Your mother can be quite terrifying at times. Did you know Lee taught her how to shoot, and that she still knows how?” 

“What? No. Listen, Harry, I just…I can’t believe we’re getting married, you know?” 

Harry smiles, a look so _soft_ on his face that Eggsy’s knees nearly turn to mush. “Me neither. But it’s happening, and I wouldn’t want it any other way, my darling.” He places his hands, calloused but gentle, on both sides of Eggsy’s face. “You’re the most precious thing that’s happened to me.” 

He kisses Eggsy. 

Eggsy starts to pull away, but can’t, his feet sticking to the floor, and the more Harry presses his mouth on his, Eggsy succumbs. His cologne doesn’t smell like Eggsy recalls; it’s sweeter, a bit cloying, even, wrapping around his senses. 

But he remembers. 

He remembers Harry in America, remembers racing up to embrace him, remembers the shouting and pleading and kissing, remembers the way Harry’s lips felt on his for the first time, remembers Harry murmuring apologies and declarations of love, remembers Merlin and Roxy and Jack and Ginger staring open-mouthed at the display, remembers what it was— _is_ —like to be loved like this. 

He remembers going on missions, Harry by his side. He remembers his mum yelling at Harry over Sunday roast. He remembers Harry giving Daisy piggy-back rides around the neighborhood. He remembers tumbling onto the bed after a long day, Harry’s arms ready to catch him. He remembers laughing, then pulling out a ring from his trouser pocket. He remembers Merlin being stunned when Harry asked him to be his best man and Roxy, Jamal, and Ryan nearly shrieking when Eggsy asked them to be at his side on the wedding stage. 

He remembers _everything_. 

“Harry,” Eggsy breathes, when they pull away. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Harry smiles and kisses him briefly on the forehead. “Are you nervous, darling?” 

“A little,” Eggsy admits, but keeps smiling at him and can’t seem to stop.

“Imagine how I feel, an old man marrying someone like you,” Harry retorts. “Not to mention—”

“Oi, don’t go talking yourself down again.” Eggsy grins, then smooths his fingers down Harry’s waistcoat. “Though, _this_ …”   

Harry makes a face. “I’ll have you know that my great-great-great-grandfather wore this to his wedding, and I promised my family I’d wear it to mine. Besides, hasn’t Roxy told you not to focus so much on…what is it, binary expectations?” 

“It isn’t that,” Eggsy protests. “I just…it clashes with your suit.” 

“It certainly does not,” Harry says, affronted. “The pink accents the stripes in my tie. Besides, you are one to talk; you wore that bright orange tux—”

“It was stylish, and you know it. You’re just jealous because that American agent was eyeing me up and down like a well-cut flank of steak.” 

Harry grumbles something underneath his breath. 

“Hey!” Eggsy hears Roxy’s voice. “Places, everyone! Eggsy! Harry! Where are you two?” 

Eggsy grins. “Sorry, love, got somewhere I need to be.” 

Harry smiles back. “As do I. See you soon?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Eggsy says, and turns to go, spotting Roxy flagging him down, with his mum and sister by her side. Roxy looks aces in her dress and heels, and also has flowers in her hair—

Flowers. Those flowers. 

 _Poppies_. 

“Harry,” Eggsy begins to say, turning back around. “Do you—”

But Harry’s no longer there. Instead, it’s _Charlie_ , an scar at his temple and his dog sitting on its haunches at his feet. “What, Eggsy?” he sneers. “Looking for something?”    

Furious, Eggsy lunges for him, fingers scrabbling to wring themselves around Charlie’s neck, the treacherous prick, when—

“Eggsy! _Eggsy_ , wake up!” 

Roxy.

When Eggsy blinks, she’s standing right in front of him, hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing her Kingsman suit. Beside her is Merlin, clad in a black sweater and brown slacks, hands on Eggsy’s shoulders, shaking him. 

“What is it?” Merlin demands. “What happened?” 

Eggsy braces himself up with his hands, looking around. Roxy’s standing over him, an expression of concern on her face, and JB whimpering anxiously at the foot of his bed. He’s in his room, back in Statesman HQ. 

He remembers an explosion. Screaming. Roxy tackling him to the ground. His own limbs jerking, as if he was having a seizure. Bright lights flashing across his vision. And then…

Eggsy reaches up to rub at his itchy eyes, and his fingers come away wet. 

“Nothing,” Eggsy mutters. “Nothing. It was just a dream.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you recognized the title from Florence and the Machine's "Blinding," you probably knew how this was going to go.


End file.
